


Microwave Mayhem

by andachippedcup



Series: Domestic Belle [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:08:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andachippedcup/pseuds/andachippedcup





	Microwave Mayhem

It takes time and much reassurance from Dr. Hopper before Gold feels comfortable enough to leave Belle alone on her own for an entire day. The cricket man swears up and down that he believes she will be fine. Gold, however, is not convinced.

He doesn’t really trust the cricket man. (To be fair though, the only one he  _does_  trust is Belle.) But the cricket man? Oh no. He doesn’t care for the cricket man. Not one bit.

It’s the eyes, he concludes.  _Hopper’s got_   _shifty eyes_. Cricket eyes. Which, all things considered, makes sense. But still. Crickets are  _pests_. Why on earth would he trust the judgment of a pest?

Eventually though, between the combined poking and prodding of the good doctor, the sheriff, the teacher, the waitress and the other host of characters that Belle has amassed to her side, Gold is convinced that he can safely leave her alone for the day. Belle repeatedly tells him that he can go into work without the apocalypse happening or Regina riding in on one of Maleficent’s pet dragons.

Still, that doesn’t stop him from dawdling at the front door the morning that he’s supposed to go back to the shop. He’s looking for any excuse  _not_  to leave when Belle gently shoves him out the front door, pressing a brown paper bagged lunch in his hands and a kiss to his forehead.

She gives him one of her cherry red smiles and he thinks that maybe,  _maybe_  she’ll relent and let him stay.

That’s when the front door slams shut in his face.

——-

He calls Emma perhaps a dozen times within the first half of the day. It gets to the point that as soon as she hears his voice, she hangs up on him. He’s frustrated beyond all measure, and pacing the shop like a man possessed. He nearly calls in his favor with Emma (not that she’d take his call even if he decided to) but thinks better of it at the last minute.

Instead, he opts for going home early. Two fifteen’s a good quitting time, right? Yes. Perfectly respectable. So, he gathers his things, flips the shop sign to ‘Closed’ and sets off for home without even the slightest bit of regret or remorse.

Until, that is, he walks in the front door and finds a thundercloud waiting for him, dainty hands on her hips and blue eyes crackling with anger.

“ _Rumplestiltskin_!” Belle huffs. “You march your magical behind right back to your store. I am  _fine_  and I do  _not_  need you checking up on me! I am  _not a child_!” She snaps and suddenly the old dragon is cowering behind this force of nature that is his Belle.

He needs a cover story and quick. Belle looks like she might murder him.

“I’m just here for tea, dearie.” He offers weakly and that must be acceptable, because she’s deflating, her ruffled feathers falling back into place as she calms.  _Yes. Tea. Good. Believable. Very in character for him too._ It’s a good thing he thinks quickly on his feet.

“Oh.” She sighs, then smiles at him sheepishly. “Well come on in then. I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have started the kettle.” She chatters, and he tries to hide a gulp at the notion of Belle, attempting to work the stove while unsupervised.

A right fire hazard, that.

They make their way into the kitchen and she flits about preparing tea; this is something well-known to her, even in this world, and it is obvious she welcomes the familiarity. He’s dying to inspect every inch of her to be sure she’s really alright, but he resists. Instead, he settles for idle chatter.

“So, how has your day been so far, dearie?” Innocent enough.

“ _Fine_.” She chuckles, shooting him a knowing grin and shaking her head. “You don’t need to worry about me. Honestly. I’m quite capable.”

She pours two cups of tea and brings them to the table with the rest of the tea things and sets it before him. Without even needing to ask, she loads his cup with three scoops of sugar and mixes it with a flourish before presenting it to him.

“How was  _your_ day? Did you manage to accomplish anything between phone calls with Emma?” She asks and he nearly gets whiplash from jerking his head up to meet her knowing gaze.

“You…you know about that, do you?” He questions with an uneasy smile. Belle chuckles into her tea.

“Oh yes; she called once just before lunch to make certain I was fine and informed me that I’m very lucky to have such an ‘attentive companion’.”

Attentive. Obsessive. Take your pick.

“Ah yes, well… One can’t be too careful.” He offers up, then hastily sips at his tea, afraid of saying much more.

——-

She sees him to the front door and once again she must gently force him outside as he reminds her that he’d left her a meal in the refrigerator, lest she get hungry before he arrives home she need only heat it up. He’s also reminding her that she can call him if she needs anything when she shuts the door on him. Again.

He’s left with nothing to do but go back to the shop. So it’s to the shop he returns, with every intent of staying there until closing time at seven o’clock sharp (usually it’s eight but what the hell, right?).

That is, until he gets a call from a certain sheriff at five twenty eight saying that the fire department’s been dispatched to his home. He stays on the line long enough to confirm that Belle’s alright (and in fact, was the one to ask Emma to call him) and then he hangs up on the Sheriff to race back home as quickly as his black Cadillac will get him there, ignoring every fucking stop sign along the way.

After all, he knows where the only Sheriff in town is and she’s at his house. Not much chance of being stopped for failure to adhere to a sign then, is there?

His mind has conjured the image of a blazing inferno with Belle trapped inside, helpless and frightened and hurting. He prays that if there’s been a blaze, the firefighters that he pays taxes to help fund have actually done their damn job and pulled her out of the fire. Because if they haven’t, and if his little Belle is scorched or burned or  _heavens above_  if she’s seriously hurt?

Those men will burn like the trees in their precious  _fucking_ Sherwood Forest. Let’s see how ‘merry’ they’d be then, hmm?

——-

The fire department is already pulling away from the house when he arrives, with good ol’ Robin himself behind the wheel, but thankfully the Sheriff’s car parked in his drive informs him that Emma’s still here, keeping an eye on Belle until he arrives. And if the fire department has left her with Belle and there’s no signs of paramedics, well, that should mean she’s alright.

He feels his lungs loosen a bit and he breathes not quite a sigh of relief, but he’s certainly breathing better than he was a moment ago.

The house is still standing, at least, so that gives him some measure of comfort. When he steps through the front door, he’s half expecting everything to be blackened ash, but all’s well, albeit a bit hazy from residual smoke.

“Belle?!” His voice is crisp and fraught with concern, but already he can hear the pattering of feet in the living room.

“I’m here, I’m fine!” She assures, appearing in the entryway. Instantly he’s upon her, hands gently running over her arms and face, confirming that she’s not a bloody, broken, burned mess. Truth be told, there’s not a mark on her, not even a smudge of smoke, though she smells of it.

“Are you certain?” He needs confirmation. He’s ever the coward, ever fearful and the thing he loves most has had a close call with fire. It’s  _not_  a comforting notion.

“Positive. The firefighters checked me over and gave me the all clear and Emma’s already given me a once over to be sure. I’m  _fine_.” She reassures him and he nods, trying to resist the urge to demand she strip so he can inspect every inch of skin to be sure she’s really as okay as she says.

“What happened?” He queries just as Emma rounds the corner, a knowing smirk on her features. Belle is suddenly quiet and blushing, painfully aware that there’s someone else here to witness her embarrassment.

“Well, I tried to warm up the food you left for me.” She offers lamely, and he nods.

“Mmhmm, the roast beef and potatoes and green beans.”

“Right.” She confirms, bobbing her head and trying to duck his gaze.

“And I put it in the microwave like you said and I didn’t set it for very long but…” She trails off, biting her lip and her cheeks are positively tomato red now.

“But…?” He prods, anxious to know what happened and if he needs to hunt down a microwave corporation to sue. He’s trying to recall all kinds of random facts about faulty products and any laws he might be able to bend to his advantage to sue these corporate bastards (selling him a dud microwave that nearly got his little Belle killed - the nerve!) when Emma interjects to save Belle the embarrassment.

“She forgot to take the aluminum foil off.” Emma explains, doing her very best to hide the smirk that’s playing at the corner of her lips. She half succeeds and he’s rather glad that Belle’s too busy burying her face in his chest to see the half smirking, half serious expression that Emma’s wearing. As it is, he’s struggling to maintain his composure too.

 “It wasn’t anything bad, but she had apparently left the room, so she didn’t see it sparking until she came back a few minutes later and the stuff inside the microwave was already on fire.” Emma continues, reading off of her little notepad where she’s jotted down the story for her report.

“I tried to put it out!” Belle wails, her voice muffled because she’s currently burrowing herself into his arms. “But the microwave was catching too and it was a  _mess_.” She adds, and what little of her is still visible has now become a darker shade of red than he’s ever seen on a person.

“She opened the door and tried to put it out, but the smoke detectors started going off and because of your security system, the fire department was notified and they responded.” Emma finishes up, flipping the little notebook closed and glancing from Belle, still smothering herself in his arms, to Gold himself.

“I think you’ve got this covered. Let me know if you need anything and uh… be careful.” Emma adds, sharing a knowing look with him before bouncing out the door with a gentle, reassuring pat on Belle’s back.

——-

He cleans up the mess in the kitchen – fortunately, nothing’s really damaged but the microwave, which he disposes of into the dumpster almost immediately. And after opening the windows for some airing out, the house is mostly smoke free, though there’s still a lingering smell.

Still, all’s well enough that when bedtime comes (a bit early, given the day’s excitement), he’s not too terribly worked up despite his previous worries.

However, when the fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night not once, not twice, but three times, he speaks with the on-call fireman and they determines that the house isn’t worth staying in for the night. He’ll have to call someone to come check the smoke detectors (goodness knows  _he_  isn’t going to do it) in the hopes that, tomorrow night, they’ll be able to sleep through the night with no disturbance.

For now though, he’s shouldering a bag of her belongings and one of his own and he’s loading them into the car to drive the pair of them to Granny’s Bed & Breakfast. Sure, it’s late now, but fuck if he cares. His Belle needs her sleep and he needs his and if the old broad lets them in (which she will, of course), he’ll reduce this month’s rent by half.

As he shuts the driver’s side door and glances to a sleepy and apologetic Belle, he smiles. Of all the things he’d worried about, small scale kitchen fires had not been high on his list.

“Never you mind, dearie.” He comforts, because the guilt she feels is splashed across her face like a neon sign on a starless night. “I never liked that microwave anyway.”

And so it is that as he revs the car to life, the sound of her laughter is the soundtrack of their drive to Granny’s.

It’s worth every second of sleep lost, every appliance burned, and every penny spent, he thinks.

 _Aluminum foil in the microwave_ , he thinks to himself with a chuckle

His little Belle is  _always_  an adventure.


End file.
